


how can I tell you just all that you are?

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Addiction, Anal Sex, Angst, Barebacking, Blood Kink, Blowjobs, Emotions, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Prostitution, Knife Play, M/M, Pain Kink, Rimming, Tender Sex, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 05:09:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18046109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: what you do to meIt takes Diego an embarrassingly long time to understandwhyKlaus always asks for the knives.





	how can I tell you just all that you are?

**Author's Note:**

> got the idea to write some sad knifeplay w/ a happy ending and here we are! disclaimer: no idea how knife play works (in terms of safety). i just wrote what felt hot.
> 
> big thanks to hannah for beta'ing!
> 
> enjoy!

It takes Diego an embarrassingly long time to understand _why_ Klaus always asks for the knives.

The thing is, it’s not like Klaus is the first partner Diego’s had ask him to bust out his knife set in the bedroom. That’s actually pretty common; if a partner knew about Diego’s knife set, they asked Diego to cut them with said knives. That’s just the law of the universe.

So when, the first time they end up in bed together, Klaus begs and pleads with his flushed red mouth, _“Please, Diego, wanna feel it. Cut me, make me bleed, baby, c’mon,”_ well….

Diego just doesn’t think anything of it, is all.

Doesn’t think about it the first time, or second time, or seventh time, or, or, or—

 

 

Diego flexes his fingers around Klaus’ neck, not enough to cut off air but enough to warn him. Klaus smirks back at him and arches. It presses his neck against Diego’s palm—a dare.

“I’m not choking you out tonight, brat,” Diego hisses. He’s got Klaus pressed against his bedroom door, and there’s no doubt where this is heading, but Klaus is still sporting purplish bruises around his neck from the night before, and it’s just a little too much for Diego. Too many marks littering Klaus’ skins reminds Diego of the times he’d bail Klaus out of jail, the times he’d find his brother on the street.

“Please,” Klaus gasps. He shudders and ruts against the thigh Diego’s got between his legs. He’s panting, moaning like he’ll die without it. _“Please.”_

“No,” Diego says again. He practically spits the word against Klaus’ cheek, soothes the venom in his tone with a sweet trail of kisses peppered along Klaus’ jaw. “Not tonight.” He pulls his hand back, lets his fingertips tease the bruises, before reaching between their bodies.

“The knives then, _please_ ,” Klaus whimpers. His eyes are squeezed shut like he’s in pain. “I’ll do whatever you want, anything. Want me to suck you off? I’ll do it. Please?”

Diego glares at Klaus and his mouth shuts with a _click_. “You’re needy tonight,” Diego murmurs. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing!” Klaus seems like he’s bursting with energy and the word goes off like a firecracker between them. “Nothing!” He half-shouts again. His head drops back and hits the bedroom door with a thud. “Just wanna feel you, you make me feel so good.” Klaus loops his arms around Diego’s neck and tugs him close enough to brush their noses together. It’s a gentle, intimate movement, but Klaus is shaking violently in Diego’s arms.

“Okay,” Diego breathes. “The knives, we can do that, baby. I can give that to you.”

Klaus’ whine is broken and wet.

“C’mon, up,” Diego says as he gets two hands under Klaus’ ass. “Bed.” Klaus goes easily, lifting into Diego’s arms like it’s nothing; they don’t even stumble as they wander to the bed, the route well-practiced by now. Diego lays Klaus down gently, admires the way his curls spread across the pillowcase. “Strip for me,” Diego commands.

Klaus hurries to comply, while Diego drops to his knees and drags his silver case out from under the bed. Diego ignores the flashes of pale skin on display and instead focuses on the flashes of silver beneath his hands. It’s a fine art, picking which one is best to cut Klaus with, same as it’s an art deciding which to bring on patrols. Too big and they could both end up hurt, even with Diego’s powers. Too small, and Klaus will complain—a size queen in many regards, including knives.

Diego finally decides on his favorite. The handle is a little worn from how often he uses it, but the blade is sterile and polished. He twirls it in his hand and tests the weight before closing his silver case and shoving it back under his bed. He finally looks up to find Klaus, naked, staring back at him expectantly.

“Can you hold this for me, baby?”

Klaus licks his lips and nods. He watches with wide eyes, pupils blown, as Diego passes over the knife. He twists it in his hand to present the handle to Klaus. Klaus’ hand shakes until his fingers curl around the leather handle, and only then does his hand seem to steady. Diego waits a minute to make sure Klaus isn’t about to do something crazy—he’s not exactly expecting it, but half of why he loves Klaus is for how much his brother surprises him—before starting to strip out of his own clothes.

Once naked, he climbs onto the bed with Klaus. He situates himself between the inviting warmth of Klaus’ spread legs and holds out his hand. Klaus passes the knife back wordlessly. He falls back onto the bed and his curls bounce with the force of it. He looks beautiful, spread out like this, chest heaving. His eyes are heavy-lidded and his lips are flushed, he’s been biting them again.

Diego reaches out with his free hand and brushes a thumb over Klaus’ bottom lip. “Gotta stop biting,” he chides quietly.

Klaus licks his finger in response before opening his mouth wider and taking Diego’s thumb into his mouth and sucking. It’s like an electrical current straight to Diego’s dick and his hips jump practically of their own accord. His erection smears sticky precome along the inside of Klaus’ thigh, and Diego has half a mind to say _fuck the knives_ and just grab the lube.

But then Klaus pulls off his thumb with a delicate _pop_ and his gaze lingers on the metal glinting in Diego’s hand. And there’s just no way Diego could say no to him, no way at all.

So Diego brings the knife in his hand to Klaus’ thigh, pale and dusted in coarse brown hair, and presses just the tip into his skin. Klaus’ entire body goes still, he doesn’t even breathe, as he waits for Diego to move.

“Good boy,” Diego says softly. He digs in the tip a little harder. The skin is turning red under the pressure, and he tilts the blade ever so slightly until the sharpened side can finally cut into the skin. He’s well-practiced at this, both from his vigilantism and from how often his partners have begged him to do this. It’s easy to put just the right amount of force behind his touch, just barely enough to break skin and draw a welt of blood to the surface.

Klaus lets out a shuddering sigh and practically melts into the bed.

“That good?” Diego asks as he takes the knife away. Red clings to the edge and to Klaus’ thigh.

“Yes,” Klaus whimpers. “More?”

“I know you need more,” Diego says agreeably. “Don’t I always give you what you need?”

Klaus’ lips quirk into a smile, and Diego can tell he’s about to make some snarky comment, so he brings the knife to Klaus’ other thigh and wastes no time. He’s still careful and methodical but blood rushes to the surface quicker this time and he presses in a little harder, deeper, enough to split skin angrily.

Klaus shudders again and his knees almost draw together; they’re only stopped by Diego. He withdraws the knife again before Klaus can wriggle more and cause some damage.

“Diego!” Klaus whines again. “You’re such a tease.”

Diego snickers softly to himself. He reaches down and presses his thumb against the deeper cut. Blood is already slowing to a trickle. He keeps his thumb there until Klaus is whimpering with every exhale.

“I’m going to take care of you,” Diego promises.

Klaus squirms. The expression on his face is almost _pained_ , and when his eyes snap open, he looks practically feral. “I _need_ it, Diego, _please_.”

“I know what you need.” Diego reaches out and presses the tip of the knife to the center of Klaus’ chest. It seems to soothe him, but not entirely.

“You don’t,” Klaus whines, even though he’s stopped moving. “You don’t get it.”

Diego tilts the knife again and lets it bite into Klaus’ chest. “So tell me,” he commands.

Klaus tries to bring his legs together again and the pressure has droplets of blood sluggishly leaking from the cuts. It’s mesmerizing, and Diego can admit he has just as much fondness for this particular kink as Klaus does.

Klaus moans in frustration. “It’s not enough, I need _more_ ,” he snaps, petulant.

“You’re such a brat,” Diego returns. It’s a familiar refrain, but Klaus’ urgency, the chaotic energy exuding him—it’s different, from all the times before. “Why should I give you what you want if you’re going to be a brat?”

The next sound that tears from Klaus’ throat is more like a sob than anything else. It’s wet and heavy and Diego almost drops the knife. Klaus must see his grip slacken, because he reaches for Diego’s wrist and forces the knife up, up, until the flat of the blade is pressing to Klaus’ neck.

“Please,” he rasps.

Diego knows something is wrong. He can feel it in his gut. This time is different than all the rest and his chest aches with the knowledge. Even so, the look Klaus is giving him is too desperate and too vulnerable to turn away. So Diego tilts his hand, lets the blade just _barely_ dig into Klaus’ neck before he pulls away. It’s not enough to cut and draw blood but as he drags the knife away from Klaus’ skin, a thin angry welt is left behind. Klaus shudders.

“I’ll give it to you,” Diego promises again quietly. His cock is still hard against his thigh but he ignores it for now in favor of putting all his focus onto Klaus. He drags the knife over Klaus’ already marked up skin: over faded tattoos and the track marks in the corners of his arms, over cigarette burns and scars from old bar fights. Klaus shivers and twitches under the blade but keeps himself obediently still, just as Diego demanded he be the first time they ever tried this.

Diego only digs in to the spots he knows are safe, knows he won’t cut too deep or damage when he presses hard enough. Like the inside of Klaus’ bicep, where he drags the knife hard enough to have rivulets of blood dribbling onto the covers below. Internally, Diego curses not laying out towels before this, but it’s too late now.

Klaus is moaning loud enough to shake the walls and his cock is dripping precome onto his stomach incessantly. Diego wonders if he could come just from the catch of blade on skin.

_Of course he could,_ Diego thinks, and draws the blade toward Klaus’ stomach with determination. Klaus’ eyes keep fluttering, like he wants to watch Diego but can’t bear to keep his eyes open. It’s flattering, and Diego leans in to kiss him. Klaus cries into it, immediately opening his mouth and letting Diego in close and wet and deep.

Mindful of the knife between their bodies, Diego takes his fill of the kiss. He presses the cool flat metal against Klaus’ stomach until he’s ready to pull back and keep cutting.

“You close, baby?” Diego asks. He sits back to admires Klaus’ body littered in little red marks and bleeding in a few spots. They’ll be easy enough to clean and bandage up, but Diego’s just about reached his limit for what he feels comfortable doing.

Klaus nods frantically. His forehead is dripping with sweat and his bottom lip is quivering. “So close, Diego, please, _please_.”

Diego brings his free hand to wrap around Klaus’ cock and starts stroking him quick and tight at the same time he digs his knife into a bit of baby fat on Klaus’ side. He’s gained weight ever since he got sober; it’s a good look on him. It’s just the right amount of padding to press a little harder against and watch the skin flush red. Blood blooms and the same moment Diego twists his hand around the head of Klaus’ cock and Klaus _comes_.

His back arches and Diego only just barely tosses the knife aside in time to avoid slicing into his brother deeper. Klaus throws his head back and screams as comes shoots across his cut up chest, almost reaching his chin. The last few pulses dribble over Diego’s knuckles, sticky and warm.

Diego wipes his hand on the sheets before gathering Klaus into his arms. “I’m here, I’m here,” he murmurs. Klaus curls against him, shaking. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

Klaus nods, a glazed look in his eyes. It’s easy to guide him off the bed and into the attached bath—and thank god for renovations, Diego thinks, because he’d hate dragging Klaus through the halls of the old mansion like this. Klaus goes willingly under the spray of the shower and lets Diego clean him up. He lets Diego dry him off and sit him on the toilet seat to get bandaged up.

All the while, as Diego digs out the first aid kit and as he sits on the edge of the tub to start tending to Klaus’ wounds, his brother is quiet. Smiling, blissed out, but unnervingly quiet.

It’s only when all of Klaus’ cuts have been wrapped up and the sheets on the bed have been changed that Klaus speaks.

“So,” he croaks. “What are the odds of us never talking about, uh. That?”

Diego pins him with an unimpressed glare.

“Right.” Klaus sighs. He drops Diego’s gaze and fiddles with a stray thread on the blanket underneath them.

Diego waits. It kills him. He’s not exactly a patient guy, but for Klaus, he’s trying. Trying so fucking hard. He nearly hits his brink, the edge where he’s just going to snap and ask, _“well what the fuck was that?”_

Klaus finally speaks.

“I’ve been sober for…seven months now?” He draws it out like a question. “And it never gets any easier. Every fucking day is just…more shit, piled on shit, piled on shit.”

Diego frowns, but doesn’t speak.

“Even when things are _good_ , I’m still thinking about how much I wish I had a hit. A joint. A drink. A _something_.” Klaus curls his arms around himself and shivers, even though he’s wrapped up in Diego’s sweats and a blanket. “Every single fucking day,” he says again.

Diego inches incrementally closer on the bed and wraps a hesitant arm around Klaus. “I’m sorry.”

Klaus laughs humorlessly and shakes his head. “It’s nothing to be sorry for. It’s just _me_ , now. That’s just how I’m wired.”

Diego waits; he knows there’s more.

“The knives… the choking…” Klaus trails off with an almost dreamy sigh. “They help. I can _feel_ them.”

Diego’s brow furrows.

“It’s not quite the same as a high but, _fuck_ , Diego, it’s so good. It’s almost there, It’s so close.” Klaus’ eyes are watering now as he finally looks at Diego again. “And sometimes I just _need_ it. Okay?”

Diego almost can’t stand to look at his brother. It’s too much raw emotion and too much pain and Diego feels _scared_ , looking at Klaus like this. Scared the same way he did when they were fifteen and Ben had just died and Klaus had eagerly told him, _“I just did some coke!”_

Diego leans in and kisses Klaus softly, brings up a hand to cup his lightly stubbled cheek. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “That you feel that way.” He doesn’t know what else to say, really.

Klaus smiles sadly at him. “It’s okay.” He says it so resignedly, so tiredly.

Something inside Diego snaps.

“It’s _not_ okay.” Diego looks at him with a hard and narrowed gaze. “It’s not. I can’t—I can’t fucking choke you out or cut you up every time you need to feel better. That’s not _healthy_ , it’s not _safe_.”

Klaus looks ashamed so Diego gathers him close. It’s like walking a tightrope—making Klaus see but making him understand that it’s not his fault.

“Will you let me try something? Not right now, but, next time?”

Klaus hides his face against Diego’s neck. After a long, tense beat of silence, he nods. “Okay,” he says. He presses a single, gentle kiss to Diego’s neck. “Okay.”

 

 

Diego doesn’t get the opportunity for almost a week, which in and of itself is a little terrifying. He and Klaus, to put it lightly, fuck like _rabbits_. Constantly, anywhere they can, going like the god damn Energizer bunny whenever possible. But after Klaus’ confession, it just doesn’t happen.

Mainly in part because Klaus starts avoiding Diego like the fucking plague.

He knows Klaus is safe, but only through the virtue of their siblings. Klaus apparently decides to spend time with everyone _except_ Diego. It’s only because the rest of his family keeps him updated that Diego doesn’t lose his shit when Klaus stops coming to his bedroom at night.

He decides to wait it out. He’s already asked Klaus for what he can, and the ball is in Klaus’ court now. It’s up to him, what happens next. Diego hopes that his brother doesn’t start looking for random hookups—or worse, turning to one of their siblings for sex. Diego can’t stomach either thought.

 

He’s so relieved when Klaus finally slips into his room after dinner, his stutter returns to haunt him for a brief second.

“Kl-Klaus?” He sits up and all but tosses his book aside. Klaus smiles at him as he shuts the door behind him. “You’re here.”

“Yeah, look.” Klaus hurries over to the bed and practically clambers into Diego’s lap. “Sorry about, uh, all that.” He waves a flippant hand in reference to his behavior over the past week. “I just needed some time to think, okay?”

Diego ought to be pissed. He _was_ pissed, even just a few seconds before Klaus arrived. He just nods and wraps his arms around Klaus’ waist. “Okay,” he agrees.

Klaus’ smile turns blinding. He looks down at Diego and raises an eyebrow, “I believe there was something you were wanting to try?” He purrs.

Diego nods. “If you’re ready for it.”

A spark of interest fills Klaus’ eyes and his lips twist in a smirk. “I’m _always_ ready for it.”

_Don’t be so sure,_ Diego things. He reaches up and starts to push the shirt from Klaus’ shoulders. It’s sheer and thin, he thinks Allison called it a kimono before. It suits Klaus and his flowing, airy nature—but right now, it’d be better on the floor. Klaus twists and turns with him to shrug the garment off.

With a sultry smile, Klaus drops it over the edge of the bed. His hands fall to the waistband of his tight jeans next, but Diego stops him.

“I’m running the show,” Diego says.

Klaus freezes. His pupils are wide enough to almost entirely swallow up the green of his iris. “Yeah,” he agrees. “You’re in charge.”

Heat thrums in Diego’s veins at the admission, but he forces himself to keep a level head. It’s so easy to get wrapped up in Klaus that _actually_ being in control with the other man feels a lot like chasing the wind. Diego settles his hands on Klaus’ hips and holds tight. He drags Klaus against him and lets his own denim-trapped erection brush over Klaus’ ass.

“You do this to me,” Diego finds himself murmuring, almost unintentionally. “Make me hard.”

Klaus whines and grinds down against Diego. “Good, yeah, love your cock.”

Diego rolls his eyes and leans in to bite at Klaus’ neck. The bruises from before are long gone, leaving nothing but an untouched, pale pink column of skin. No one else has touched Klaus here, Diego knows, and Klaus hasn’t even tried using his own methods to get off. It’s reassuring, and _hot_.

Klaus shudders as Diego scrapes his teeth over his pulse point before biting down hard and sucking. He digs his teeth in and sucks until he swears he can feel the blood vessels popping against his tongue.

He pulls back and admires the dark purple hickey. He presses his tongue against the abused skin and Klaus jumps.

“Ah! Diego!”

“That’s it,” Diego says. He rubs a hand over Klaus’ back, up to his neck and then into his hair and tugs. “All mine.”

Klaus tries to nod but he’s held in place by Diego. “Please, please, please,” he chants like a prayer.

“Shush,” Diego commands. Even Klaus’ whimpering stops.

Slowly, cradling his brother like something precious, Diego turns them and spreads Klaus out on the bed underneath him. Like a week before, Diego situates himself between Klaus’ legs and relishes the view before him. He leans in and plasters himself to Klaus’ front, aligning their bodies top to bottom as much as he can.

He bends to kiss Klaus and distracts them both until their lips are tender. Klaus is writhing against him desperately but Diego refuses to be led astray. He does roll his hips lazily against Klaus’, enjoying the friction and heat of Klaus’ cock against his own, but puts all his focus into kissing Klaus until he’s breathless.

When Diego finally pulls back, Klaus’ lips are cherry red and his mouth hangs open to gasp for air.

“Gonna show you a better way to make you _feel_ ,” Diego hisses against Klaus’ lips. He turns and starts to trail kisses down Klaus’ jaw, his neck, to his shoulder.

His chest is bare. Only a few lingering marks from their last tryst remain, and even those are almost too pale to see. It pleases Diego, not only to not see any new marks, but to be putting the last time behind them, moving forward. He presses a kiss to a deeper red mark, one in the dead center of Klaus’ chest.

Klaus sighs and brings a hand to simply rest in Diego’s hair. He doesn’t pull— _yet_ —just lets his fingers scrape against Diego’s scalp pleasantly.

Diego presses the flat of his tongue against the divet on Klaus’ chest and swears he can almost taste the metallic tang of blood. Another lick, and it’s simply sweat, the familiar taste of Klaus’ skin. Diego nips at the mark lightly before making his way to one nipple. He bites gently at the pebbled nub and Klaus arches his back to meet him.

“Oh, _oh_ , Diego, _fuck_.” Klaus’ hand tightens almost imperceptibly in Diego’s hair. He’s still not pulling quite yet, but he’s close, getting there, and Diego is eagerly anticipating the dull pleasure-pain that’s to come.

Diego sucks on Klaus’ nipple one last time before shifting to torment the other. Klaus’ encased cock is warm and insistent against Diego’s own, and getting harder to ignore by the minute. But Diego’s on a mission, he’s got a plan. He gentles as Klaus’ noises grow high-pitched and overwhelmed. He finally pulls away from Klaus’ chest with a wet suck.

“How you feeling?” Diego asks, his voice rough.

Klaus already seems dazed. “Good,” he replies in a breathy tone. “Very good.”

Diego can’t help his grin. “Good boy,” he replies. Klaus moans quietly at the praise. “Gonna keep taking care of you, okay?”

“Okay,” Klaus whispers, nodding. “Please, Diego.”

Diego pauses long enough to smile up at Klaus before biting into the fleshiest part of his pectoral, not hard enough to leave a mark but enough for Klaus to feel the sting. Klaus yelps quietly and arches his back again, grinding his dick against Diego in the process.

Slowly but surely, Diego works his ways down Klaus’ chest. He’s as methodical as he was with the knife. Has to be, or else this won’t work. He leaves a litter of hickeys across Klaus’ stomach, lavishing extra attention on his hips. Particularly the darkest remaining cut, the one that could’ve been so much worse. It’s an off-red color now, healing well but still so fucking apparent.

Diego doesn’t cover it up with a hickey, although the thought does strike him. He kisses it, lets his lips rest against it until Klaus starts to squirm.

“I love you,” Diego says in a rushed breath as he finally moves on.

Klaus whimpers. “Love you,” he replies in a moan. His hand is still flexing in Diego’s hair like he’s not quite sure what to do with himself.

Diego nuzzles across the waistband of Klaus’ jeans and finally brings a hand up to undo the button and drag down the zipper. Almost immediately, Klaus’ dick presses insistently forward, already staining the cotton of his briefs.

“All mine,” Diego murmurs as he sucks the tip into his mouth, laving his tongue over the wet tip through the cotton. Klaus’ whole body jolts like he’s been electrocuted and he digs his knees into Diego’s sides. Diego moans as the taste of precome hits his tongue through the fabric and tries to take more in, but he can only go so far.

It doesn’t seem to matter to Klaus, who’s almost screaming for it now. He’s thrashing on the bed, and Diego has to throw an arm over his hips to keep him still. It doesn’t really work—it never does—so Diego pulls back, ignores Klaus’ cry of loss, and says, “Stay still.”

Like a spell falls over him, Klaus stops wriggling. Diego nods appreciatively and, using the hand not holding Klaus down, starts to drag his jeans down his legs. It takes an agonizingly long time, partially on purpose and partially because Klaus just wears his pants _so tight_. Next are his briefs, and those come off considerably easier.

Then, Diego sits back on his haunches to stare. Klaus is spread out for him and hard. A beautiful sight.

“Diego,” Klaus whimpers softly.

“I’m here, baby.”

Klaus’ eyes flutter.

“Spread your legs for me,” Diego commands. “That’s it, hold them open.”

Klaus obeys so prettily, spreading his legs as wide as they’ll go and holding himself open by the knees. He’s entirely on display and shaking with need, so Diego decides to take pity on him.

Diego scoots further down the bed until he can get his head between Klaus’ thighs. He spreads Klaus with a thumb on each cheek to expose his hole. Klaus clenches before taking a deep breath and relaxing.

Diego mimics the deep breath and then he’s leaning in. He seals his lips around the rim and spears his tongue into his brother. It’s wet and hot and tight, just like he remembers. Klaus wails at the intrusion and he writhes enough to make the bed shake. Diego pulls back long enough to give Klaus a stern glare, enough to make him keep still, before starting again.

Diego takes another long inhale before diving in. He licks into Klaus as deep as he can reach. He should’ve known Klaus showered before coming to him—such a good boy, so prepared. He tastes clean and salty, a familiar taste for Diego, one he craves sometimes. Like now. It’s as if he can’t get deep enough, can’t get enough of Klaus, not now and not ever.

He eats his brother out until they’re both drooling, Klaus on the pillow and Diego onto the sheets below them. He pulls back slowly and works his aching jaw to relieve the tension. Klaus’ chest is heaving and his cock is an angry red, weeping precome.

“Diego,” Klaus moans, a high and whiny thing. “I need to come.”

“So come,” Diego says. “We’re not done until I say so.” It’s not quite true; Diego would stop if Klaus asked. He simply knows that Klaus won’t ask. “You can come anytime you want, baby. You’ve been so good for me.”

Klaus whimpers.

“I know you can come without me touching you,” Diego adds as he sits up again. He reaches over Klaus, ignoring both of their insistent erections, to dig around the bedside table for lube. He slicks up four fingers before settling in between Klaus’ legs again. “You can let yourself go,” he says, tapping his clean hand against one of Klaus’ hands holding himself open.

Klaus nods dazedly and lets his legs drop to either side of Diego. His hands flutter for a second like he doesn’t know where to put them before settling to fist in the sheets.

“Good boy,” Diego says. Klaus beams, a lazy sort of grin.

Diego finally brings two fingers to Klaus’ hole and slides them in without preamble. He knows Klaus can take it. He knows Klaus wants it, wants _more_. But he starts with two and pushes in until he can’t go any further, and then he stops.

Klaus doesn’t whine this time. He gasps for air and stares at Diego, curious.

Diego crooks his fingers up after a moment and watches Klaus’ body shake for him. He slowly pulls out and thrusts back in, setting up an even rhythm, not too fast or too slow. _Just right_ , he thinks, as he watches a bead of sweat drip down Klaus’ face. He looks tormented by the pace, which was the whole intention.

He doesn’t ask for more, though. He bites his bottom lip and lets moans sneak out around his clenched teeth. Diego watches Klaus’ face carefully as he thrusts, watching for any sign of change or discomfort. Slowly but surely, Klaus melts into the bed and the tension leaves his body. Klaus’ mouth drops open in a long whine and he tosses his head side to side as if it’s too much.

Diego pulls out and pushes in with three fingers. Klaus whimpers at the stretch but adjusts quickly, easily. “So good,” Diego breathes. He thrusts a little faster, a little harder. “Need to show you how much you mean to me.”

Klaus hiccups and when Diego looks up at him, there’s tears clinging to his eyelashes. “Diego,” Klaus moans.

“I’m here, taking care of you, baby. Just you, all mine.”

Klaus nods and works his hips back against Diego’s fingers. “More?” He asks quietly.

Diego indulges him and works his pinky into Klaus as well. It’s almost too much, Diego can tell by Klaus’ wince, the pinched expression in his cheeks. But Klaus doesn’t ask for him to pull out and Diego knows Klaus can take it.

“Gonna get you nice and open for me,” Diego mumbles, mostly to himself. Klaus’ breathing is almost loud enough to eclipse him. “And I’m gonna fuck you good and slow.”

He curls his fingers again and presses his finger to Klaus’ prostate. Klaus screams and his body goes tense as come spurts from the tip of his cock and pools on his stomach. Diego doesn’t relent; he keeps pressing against the nerve as Klaus rides the waves of orgasm.

“Oh, _oh_ ,” Klaus chants the word over and over. He keeps getting higher, louder, and they’re going to get an earful from the rest of their siblings come tomorrow. But Diego doesn’t really care.

He loves to listen to Klaus, loves the softly wet tinge to Klaus’ cries as the stimulation overwhelms him. Diego presses his thumb against the rim of his brother’s asshole, traces the red and stretched skin.

“Please,” Klaus gasps. “I can take it.”

“I know you can,” Diego agrees. “But not tonight.”

Diego pulls out his fingers and wipes them on the sheets before reaching for the lube again, only to find it in Klaus’ hand.

“Can I?” Klaus asks. He’s already dropping a dollop of lube into his palm. Diego barely has to nod before he’s reaching out to curl his hand around Diego’s achingly hard cock. He almost blows his load the second Klaus’ fingers brush over him. It’s been too long, he’s so hard and wants it so bad.

Diego has to tilt his head back and count backwards from one hundred to keep from coming, and judging by the smirk on Klaus’ face, he knows it. Diego eventually bats his hand away and takes his cock by the base.

“You ready, baby?”

Klaus nods eagerly. He stretches his arms over his head and it makes his body look long, lean, beautiful. Diego can’t wait any longer and falls forward to sink into Klaus. The head pops in without resistance and he slides inside in a single, smooth swoop. Klaus opens up for him and lets him in, deep and wet. Klaus is only making a single, drawn out, high-pitched noise now. It’s ridiculous and really shouldn’t be hot, but it is.

Diego goes until he’s in to the hilt, and he waits.

Klaus hooks shaking legs over Diego’s hips without prompting and locks his ankles at the small of Diego’s back. He spreads his arms and waggles his fingers in a grabby-hands motion, and it’s all Diego can do to fall forward and let Klaus wrap around him tight.

“Feel so good, baby,” Diego whispers into Klaus’ hair as he starts to thrust. True to his earlier promise, he goes slow. In to the hilt, out until only the tip is inside, repeat and repeat. “How you doing?”

Klaus whines and rubs his face against Diego’s cheek. He laps at the sweat on Diego’s face, his tongue dragging over the slight beard starting to come in. “Good, good, good,” he pants. He’s clenching around Diego because he’s needy for more, more that Diego won’t give him. Not yet, anyway.

“Is this enough _feeling_ , for you?” Diego hisses. He nips at Klaus’ earlobe and tugs. “You don’t need knives every time, or my hand on your fucking throat.”

Klaus hiccups again. A stray tear slides down his cheek and hits Diego’s face where they’re pressed together, cheek to cheek. “I know,” Klaus whimpers.

“Do you?” Diego punctuates his question with a particularly hard thrust and wrings a yelp from Klaus’ flushed lips.

“I do,” Klaus cries out. He rakes his nails down Diego’s back as if in retaliation. “I understand, I feel you, Diego, I’m here, _I’m here_.”

Diego finally starts to thrust harder and faster, satisfied with Klaus’ response. The bed rocks with the force of their thrusts and hits the wall in a ludicrous beat. It makes Diego smile, and he presses his lips at the tender skin just under Klaus’ ear. He kisses, laps across the salted skin, then pulls back enough to kiss Klaus.

“Not gonna last,” he admits after the kiss.

“Me neither,” Klaus says.

“You just came,” Diego retorts with a snicker.

Klaus shrugs as best he can while getting nailed—which is pretty good, to be honest. “I’m a man of—ah, _ah_ , many talents,” he says between moans. Klaus unhooks an arm from around Diego and slips it between them. Before he curls it around his dick, though, he bats his eyes at Diego. “May I?”

Diego hisses out a quick “yes” before surging forward for another kiss. Klaus moans into it and Diego swallows the sound, returns it with one of his own. Any semblance of finesse or rhythm goes out the window as Diego gets closer and closer to the brink. His thrusts are jerky, uneven as he plows into Klaus, and between them he can feel Klaus’ strokes getting quicker and tougher.

“Gonna come,” Diego gasps, fighting hard to keep thrusting.

Klaus’ head lolls as he tries to nod. “Yeah, yeah, I’m so close, Diego, c’mon.” Every exhale from him is a pitchy moan like he can’t contain his pleasure even if he tries. Diego’s drunk on the sounds, the feelings. Using the arm still curled around him, Klaus pulls him closer still. “I’m here, I’m gonna come with you. Wanna feel you come inside me.”

Diego’s mouth drops open in a throaty groan as he does just that. He slams his hips forward once, twice, three times more as he fills Klaus with his come. Moments after, Klaus is coming, and the tight clench of his muscles around Diego wring the last pulses of orgasm from him like a punch to the gut.

It quickly becomes too much, and Diego hastens to pull out. Klaus whimpers and shifts with the loss.

“C’mere,” Klaus demands right away. Diego hurries to get back into Klaus’ arms. They roll to their sides and tangle their legs. Klaus leans in and brushes their noses together.

Diego’s eyes are getting heavy. He kisses Klaus once, sloppily and Klaus giggles into it. Diego’s almost ready to fall asleep when Klaus speaks.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

Diego opens his eyes to find Klaus staring back at him. “Of course.”

Klaus wriggles closer until there’s hardly any space between them.


End file.
